Trial by Blood

by William Bernhardt

  “You claim he became violent. What did Henry actually do?”

  “He made loud and aggressive remarks.”

  “That’s not resisting arrest.”

  “He fought with me. Threatened to hit me.”

  He allowed himself a small smirk. Voight outweighed Henry by at least thirty-five pounds. Henry looked like he hadn’t had a non-liquid meal in years. “You must’ve been terrified,” he deadpanned.

  “That’s not the point. The man threw a punch at me. I was forced to restrain him.”

  “Henry tells me he didn’t resist at all, except to say that you had no right to arrest him because he hadn’t committed a crime.”

  “He’d been asked to leave. He wouldn’t.”

  “It’s a public place, isn’t it?”

  “For customers.”

  “Does it say that on the door? Paying customers only?”

  “It’s understood. I was forced to remove him.”

  “You were forced, or you were asked?”

  Voight hesitated. Still shifting. “I don’t understand the question.”

  “I’ve eaten at Chez Guitano, Officer. Great Lobster Thermidor. It’s a nice place. Henry’s clothes are dirty and he smells a little, and I think the managers didn’t want him hanging around the front lobby. They ugly-shamed him, basically, and called the police. I think they invented the disturbance to get rid of him, and I think you invented the resistance because you’re sick of hauling him downtown.”

  “You’re right about the last part,” Voight muttered. “You’d think even a drunk could learn a lesson.”

  “Unless of course he has a disability. Does the defendant have a disability?”

  “Well...I know he drinks a lot.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve arrested him eight times and you don’t know if he has a disability?” He glanced at the judge. “Seems like that might be worth finding out.”

  “Not my job.”

  He walked back to the defense table and pulled a file folder out of his backpack. He preferred backpack to briefcase—less strain on the shoulders and more manageable when you’re moving fast.

  He glanced at the papers in the file. “So you don’t know that his disability payments were interrupted by his constant visits to jail. You don’t know about his head injury, his history of mental illness, his addiction issues, or the fact that he’s homeless and has no one to look after him. And the worst part is—you don’t care.”

  Phelan finally got in the game. “Objection, your honor. This is not relevant.”

  “I think it’s keenly relevant, your honor. It’s the whole reason we’re here. Everything I just said my investigator learned in less than an hour—and he doesn’t have access to police databases.” In truth, Garrett did—but he wasn’t supposed to. “If the police had taken ten minutes to investigate, they might have ended this pointless and expensive pattern of arrest, jail, out in twenty-four hours, arrest, jail, rinse and repeat.”

  Judge La Costa cleared his throat. “The objection concerns whether your question is relevant to the charges of disturbing the peace and resisting arrest.”

  “And I say it is. These people don’t wait for Henry to disturb the peace anymore. They arrest him on sight. The police are supposed to serve and protect, but they’ve become bullies clearing Henry out of the way to appease wealthy businessmen who have political influence and make contributions to the police pension fund.”

  The judge looked at him sternly. “I sense you’re arguing the case, not the objection.”

  He shrugged. “Might as well save some time...”

  “Let me make a different objection,” Phelan said, pressing his hands together. Phi Beta Kappa tie pin. French cuffs. Furrowed brow. “That last question wasn’t even a question.”

  “Sustained. New question, counsel.”

  He turned back to the witness. “Did you see the alleged disturbance my client made at the restaurant?”

  “No, but the manager told me—”

  “That he wanted Henry gone. But did he describe an actual disturbance?”

  “I...don’t recall.”

  “So we have no witness present who can testify about disturbing the peace and hearsay isn’t good enough. Your honor, I move to dismiss that charge. That leaves us with resisting arrest. You claim my client threw a punch at you?”

  Voight leaned back a bit. “Yes.”

  “Which hand did he use?”

  “Uh...sorry?”

  “Stop stalling for time. Which hand did he use when he allegedly took a swing at you?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “All the difference in the world. Which hand?”

  Voight thought for a moment. “His right.”

  “Bad choice. Henry’s right hand was injured when he served in Iraq. He lost two fingers. He can’t clench that fist and he can’t raise that arm above his waist. That’s documented in this file, which I will be happy to make available to the court. What you just described is physically impossible.”

  “I guess it was his left—”

  “No, sir, you do not get to change your testimony after I’ve proved you’re lying. Your honor, I’ve got a medical report that will confirm everything I just said. I move to dismiss all charges. And I respectfully request that in the future, instead of this revolving door non-justice, the police be asked to perform perfunctory background checks. Almost half of all homeless people are veterans and they deserve better. We should take care of our people who have served.”

  Judge La Costa nodded. “I don’t have the power to set police department policy. But I do have the authority to rule on this case. The charges are dismissed. Mr. Bates, you are free to go. And—” he added, pointing, “I hope I don’t see you again.”

  The judge left the courtroom. Phelan looked as if he were about to vomit. Was this the kid’s first time in court? He hoped so. Everyone’s first time in court should be disastrous. Toughens you up.

  He clasped Henry’s hand. “Did you hear that? You’re free.”

  Henry did not seem elated. “Free to go where? I appreciate what you did for me, but—”

  “Hold that thought.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had a text from Camila Pérez—the mayor of the city and, as of last weekend, his official girlfriend.

  Found him a place at the Crislip shelter. Ready when he arrives.

  He texted back. Thx luv. C U at prty.

  “Got a place for you to stay, Henry. It’s billed as a women’s shelter, but their approach is non-binary these days. They’re specifically planning to offer services to vets, and addiction services to people dealing with opioids and other addictive substances. You can stay there as long as you need to. Get back on your feet and get back to work.”

  Henry looked incredulous. “Really?”

  “They’ll get you the help you need. You won’t have to loiter in restaurants or get arrested just to get a meal.”

  Henry’s eyes widened. “I—don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Thank me by putting your life back in order. I know you’ve seen some hard times. But you have to move on. This is a golden opportunity—so I’m expecting you to make the most of it.”

  Henry squeezed his hand. “I won’t let you down.”

  He squeezed back. “I know you won’t.”

  Chapter 3

  Dan was barely through the door when a ten-year-old girl raced toward him.

  “Dan!” She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.

  Camila gave him an arched eyebrow. “Should I be jealous?”

  “No.” He crouched down till he was eye level with the girl. “Happy birthday, Esperanza.” He handed her a gift wrapped in bright pink paper that matched her dress. “This is for you.”

  She took the package, looking excited beyond words. “A present? For me?”

  “It is your birthday party.”

  “Is it Hello Kitt
y? Is it something with Hello Kitty?”

  He frowned. Camila laughed. “I told you not to be so predictable.”

  “But it was so cute...”

  Esperanza took him by the hand. “I’ll put this with the other presents. Come inside. We’ve already started playing games.”

  He followed her lead. “Pin the Tail on the Donkey? Musical Chairs?”

  “Dan, I’m ten years old!”

  “Well...yes...”

  “We’re playing Never Have I Ever.” In the living room, he found six girls sitting in a circle while an Amazon Echo played boy band music. He wasn’t sure which group—they all sounded alike to him. And standing by the punchbowl was his friend Jazlyn Prentice, assistant district attorney for Pinellas County—and adoptive mother. Baby blue party dress. Red eyes. Loose gait. Had she spiked the punch?

  “Never Have I Ever?” he asked.

  “Oh whatever,” Jazlyn said. “It won’t take long. They haven’t ever done anything. And if they have to take a drink—it’s prune juice.”

  “Still enjoying motherhood?”

  “I’m not sure enjoying is the right word.” She allowed herself a small smile. “But it’s the best decision I ever made.”

  Dan had represented Esperanza—and her then-guardian—during a previous case. Esperanza was slated to be deported after the US revoked Protected Status for El Salvadorian emigres, but he managed to get the girl citizenship and even better, convinced Jazlyn to adopt her.

  “I hear you trounced our new hire in court this morning,” Jazlyn said.

  “The judge dismissed the charges. Your hire didn’t have much to do with it.”

  “All I know is he came back to the office, crawled behind his desk, and curled up in a fetal ball. I think he may be catatonic.”

  “First time in court?”

  “Yup. And it was a crushing defeat.”

  “Adversity is good for the soul. My client should have been assigned a public defender—175 times. If he had, this situation wouldn’t have arisen. But the court says they can’t afford to assign lawyers in misdemeanor cases, so Henry got the revolving-door treatment. Mr. K called last night and asked me to take the case, just to put a stop to it.”

  “I think Brad Phelan feels like you put a stop to him.”

  “It wasn’t his fault. The police officer lied. I would suggest you be careful about using him as a witness in the future.”

  “Voight may have exaggerated—”

  He cut her off with a shake of the head. “He lied. Deliberately. And I detected no remorse. He’s dangerous. The kind of officer who damages the reputation of the entire force.”

  “I’ll make a note.” She turned to Camila. “How is the mayor of our fine city doing?”

  “Keeping my head above water. That’s about all I can expect at this point.” Camila had recently been framed for a horrible multiple murder, but Dan had managed to not only exonerate her but finger the true culprit. “Not everyone is happy about my return to public office. But not everyone was happy when I arrived in the first place.”

  “You’re still running for the open Senate seat, right?”

  Camila hesitated, tucking her hands inside her jeans pockets. “I haven’t made an official announcement yet, but...since I’m among friends...count on it.”

  “I’m very glad.”

  “What about you? The rumor mill says DA Belasco plans to run for mayor. Which means there will be a vacancy that no one is better qualified to fill than you.”

  “I have given it some thought. I would hate campaigning, but if I were elected, I could make some positive changes. It’s no secret Belasco has made a mess of things. Tarnished the whole system. He’s too tied to the city’s big money. We’ve become dependent on plea bargaining, charging people on thin evidence because we know they’ll cop a plea to lesser offenses rather than risk a longer sentence. And the racial balance of our defendant roster is embarrassing.”

  “Tell you what—you endorse me and I’ll endorse you. Girls rule.”

  They shook on it. “Deal.”

  Jazlyn turned to Dan. “Hope you’re not feeling left out.”

  “Feeling lucky to know so many strong intelligent women.”

  “I wasn’t at all sure you’d find time in your busy schedule for a little girl’s birthday party. Not enough wind for kitesurfing?”

  “Nonsense.” He glanced at the girls sitting in a circle. The one facing him asked if anyone had ever swallowed a Tide pod. “Anything for Esperanza. That little girl changed my life. For the better.”

  She squinted a bit. “You’re still a bit of a mystery to me, Mr. Pike.”

  “Me? I’m an open book.”

  Jazlyn and Camila both laughed out loud.

  “What? I am.”

  Camila covered her mouth. “Sure. An open book with mostly blank pages.”

  “Honey, I have no secrets from you.”

  “Maybe. But you’re not volunteering anything, either.”

  “You know everything about me there is to know.”

  “I know as little as you’ve bothered to reveal. You grew up in Florida. You went to law school and became arguably the best—certainly the flashiest—criminal defense lawyer in town. You left the big firm and joined that wacky outfit run by Mr. K—a pseudonym for a boss you’ve never met. And you do this crazy thing with your tongue—”

  “Whoa. Let’s not get too personal here.”

  “Just wanted to see if I could get a reaction out of you.”

  “And he has a passion for justice,” Jazlyn added. “Which I admire. Even if it is usually a thorn in my professional side.”

  “I’ve earned that passion.” He saw no need to repeat what they already knew. His father was wrongfully convicted of murder when he was young, then died in prison when Dan was just seventeen. He’d spent most of his adult life making sure others weren’t railroaded in the same way.

  “So who are you, Daniel Pike?” Jazlyn asked.

  He took a step back. “Is this a birthday party or a therapy session?”

  “Yes. Deflecting the question with a joke. One of your favorite tactics.”

  He glanced toward the girls. “Esperanza looks like she’s struggling to come up with a question. You think they’ve asked about sexting yet?”

  Camila slapped his arm. “Dan! They’re ten!”

  “And every one of them has a cell phone.”

  “And once again,” Jazlyn said, “you’ve managed to change the subject.”

  “I just don’t want Esperanza to lose the game at her own party.”

  “Well,” Camila said, “suggest something other than sexting.”

  “Never have I ever gotten a sleeve tattoo?”

  “No one’s going to drink on that one.”

  “Never have I ever done a risqué TikTok?”

  “No one will know what you’re talking about.”

  Jazlyn tilted her head. “Unless it’s been on the Disney Channel. And it probably has.”

  Chapter 4

  Dan removed the lid from his Instant Pot and peered inside.

  He didn’t have to taste it. One sniff was enough to tell him the risotto was perfect—just the way he liked it. The broccoli and mushrooms and tarragon and turmeric perfectly enhanced the Arborio short-grain rice. He felt guilty about not preparing something more elaborate, but between the emergency hearing this morning and the birthday party, the conference call with Mr. K had already been delayed longer than the boss liked.

  He scooped the meal out of the slow cooker and set out Jimmy’s favorite plates, the ones featuring the chest emblems of various DC superheroes. He’d been thrown when he first saw this Snell Isle mansion they called their “office” but had to admit there was an advantage to a workplace that came with a fully equipped kitchen.

  He didn’t have to ring a dinner bell. The aroma was sufficient to bring his partners out of their private offices upstairs.

  Jimmy Armstrong was first. African-American, plus-sized card
igan sweater, aficionado of all things nerdist. “You’re using the best plates! I call Wonder Woman.”

  Dan smiled. “First here, first pick.”

  Maria Morales entered the kitchen jogging, wearing a gold lamé top and Gucci jeans. “Does this have kale in it?”

  “Broccoli.”

  She scrunched her nose. “Not the same.”

  And a few seconds later, Garrett Wainwright emerged, completing the team roster. He was sporting a Rays t-shirt and humming a jazz riff—but stopped when he spotted the food. “Does this have meat in it, Dan?”

  “You know it doesn’t.”

  He looked disappointed, but nonetheless scooped a hearty portion onto his Green Lantern plate. “My luck to be stuck in a firm full of bleeding-heart vegetarians.”

  “A vegetarian diet is good for you,” Maria insisted. “And it’s good for the planet. Reduces our carbon footprint dramatically.”

  “Liberal propaganda,” Garrett grumbled. “Let’s take it to the living room. Mr. K is getting antsy. He wanted to start this meeting a long time ago.”

  The others followed his instruction, sitting on the semi-circular sofa facing the television, as was their tradition—even though nothing was going to appear on the screen. All they would receive was Mr. K’s voice.

  Garrett opened a Zoom event on his laptop, then used Airplay to send it to the screen. A few seconds later, they heard a familiar voice crackle from the television speakers. “Hello, team. How’s everyone doing?”

  They all shouted positive thoughts. “Dan made risotto,” Jimmy said. “Mouth-watering. Don’t tell my husband I said this, Dan, but you make the best food I’ve ever eaten.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Great idea adding Dan to the team. We got a decent trial lawyer—and more importantly, a gourmet chef.”

  He tucked in his chin. “This is just a little something I whipped up on short notice...”

  “And it’s delicious. I don’t normally go in much for rice—but Dan makes it a delicacy. How do you do it?”

  “Well, for starters, that’s Arborio rice that’s been slow cooking, not Uncle Ben’s.”

  “I’m glad you’re all eating well,” Mr. K said. “You’re going to need lots of energy for your next case. Dan, I heard you scored a victory in court today.”